The Little Match Girl
by QueenofQuails
Summary: What might have happened if Regina had been telling the truth and Belle had actually died after leaving Rumpelstiltskin's castle? Who else could be capable of loving him? When a strange woman shows up in Storybrooke with a suitcase full of journals and an odd affinity for fire, Rumple finds out. AU Rumple/OFC.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: What might have happened if Regina had been telling the truth and Belle had actually died after leaving Rumpelstiltskin's castle? Who else would be capable of loving him? Who else would he be capable of loving? AU Rumple/OFC.

Disclaimer: It's the show's world. I just play in it (with my own toys).

1

The stranger had dark brown eyes and long chestnut hair drawn away from her face with a silver hair clip. She wore a simple brown skirt and a pale pink-and-white-striped shirt under a black leather jacket. Her low-heeled boots clicked on the hardwood as she worked slowly through the shop, pausing occasionally to run her fingers over an object before moving on.

Mr. Gold watched her from his office, hidden by the curtain between rooms, mildly curious and more than a little suspicious. No one ever browsed his wares. They always came for a specific item, or to ask his advice, or cut a deal, or accuse him of something. But no one came to browse, and certainly not strangers.

Best to nip this in the bud.

He straightened his tie and smoothed his hands down his suit jacket before throwing back the curtain.

"Anything I can help you with, dearie?" he asked, affably aloof.

The woman turned, almost knocking a box to the floor with her purse. She caught it as it fell and set it back on the counter.

"Sorry," she murmured, wincing with a smile. "Are you Mr. Gold?"

"I am."

"I was told you were the one to help me. I'd like to rent an apartment, if you have any available."

An apartment? Strangers didn't visit Storybrooke, and they most definitely didn't come to stay.

"We don't get a lot of newcomers," he replied. "What brings you to our little town?"

"I'm looking for my sister," she said, briefly distracted by a mobile of glass unicorns as she approached his counter. "Well, half-sister. A friend said I might have some luck here."

"Who is your friend?"

"You probably wouldn't know him. He hasn't been in town long."

August. He was supposed to be encouraging Miss Swan to break the curse. What was he thinking, bringing an outsider into Storybrooke? Who was she?

"I know everyone, dearie," he said. "As for the apartment, I would have to check before I could tell you anything."

But the stranger wasn't listening. She was staring intently at something behind him.

"What is this place?" she whispered, mouth parted in a combination of fear and awe.

Gold followed her gaze to a lit tea candle on the shelf. For a moment he watched it flicker lazily as tiny tendrils of smoke rose from the wick and disappeared into the air before turning back to the woman.

"This is Storybrooke."

"I changed my mind," she said, her voice small and faraway.

"Well, then-"

"I want to buy a house."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: It's the show's world. I just play in it (with my own toys).

2

After assuring her that an available house would be more difficult to scrounge up than an apartment but that he would do his best, Mr. Gold walked the woman to the door, all too happy to see her gone.

"I missed your name, dear," he said, opening the door for her.

"That's because I didn't tell it to you," she answered coyly as she stepped into the sunlight. She turned back to him."Finn Andersen."

"Unusual name," Gold commented, shaking the hand she offered.

"Less embarrassing than my actual name," she muttered.

"Which is...?"

"Embarrassing," she replied, smiling brightly as she turned and headed across the street in the direction of Granny's.

As soon as he was back in his office, Gold picked up the phone and dialed August's number. Voicemail, as always.

"Mr. Booth. We need to have a little chat - and soon. Meet me tonight at eleven o'clock. You know where."

As he stood on the bridge in the dark that night, Gold was pleased to hear August's footfalls shortly before the appointed time. The boy was almost impossible to get on the phone, but he was always punctual.

"Hey," August greeted once he was in earshot.

"Who's your friend?" Gold asked, not remotely interested in niceties. "And what are you doing bringing her to Storybrooke?"

August sighed. "She's not here to cause trouble. She's just looking for her sister."

"And what would make her think her sister was here?"

"Because they're from our world," he replied simply. "Finn left a long time ago, but her sister was still around when the curse hit. If she's anywhere, she's in Storybrooke."

"Why would you bring her here, now, when you have much more important things to do?"

August licked his lips. "Because I owe her. She's the only person who knows who I am and how badly I screwed up and never blamed me for it." He shook his head. "I won't live much longer. I can't make Emma believe. I've tried. So, I thought I'd do something nice for someone while I still can."

Gold tapped his cane impatiently on the wooden board beneath his feet. "That's all well and good, Mr. Booth, but you still haven't told me who she is."

August shrugged. "No one important."

Gold smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Oh, I'll be the judge of that."

"Then ask her yourself," August spat as he turned on his heel and walked stiffly across the bridge, disappearing into the trees.

Gold fumed silently for several minutes. He couldn't afford a wrench in the plan. He was better than most at improvising when things didn't go as expected, but in this land his ability to glimpse into the future was frustratingly absent, which made it that much more important to have everything accounted for. And if August was unwilling to help him with that, he was just going to have to find out himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: It's the show's world. I just play in it (with my own toys).

3

As Gold walked down the main street towards his shop the next morning, he spied the newcomer on the corner beneath the clock tower. She stood with a cup of coffee and lit cigarette in one hand as she pulled on the locked door of the library. When the door wouldn't open, she backed up and stared at the large newspaper-covered windows.

"Library's closed, Miss Andersen," he said as he came to the corner.

She cast a reproachful glance in his direction. "I can see that," she retorted. "Why?"

"It's been that way for ages. Was there a book you needed?"

She took a sip of her coffee, the cigarette dangling closely to a loose lock of hair. "Hasn't anybody ever tried to open it again?" she asked, ignoring his question. "A town without a library has no soul."

Gold smiled politely. "I suppose not. We... don't really think about it."

"People around here don't really think about a lot of things," she muttered. "Isn't there a city council? Someone I can talk to about opening it again?"

Gold suppressed the urge to laugh. If she only knew what was in there.

"Our government consists primarily of our mayor, Regina Mills. You could try asking her, but I wouldn't hold my breath."

She took a long drag from her cigarette as she studied his face. "I know you spoke to August," she said suddenly. "He's right - I have no interest in interfering."

"Interfering with what?" Gold asked, feigning innocence.

She smirked, but there was a trace of sadness in her eyes. "Do you know how hard it is to find someone you've never met when they don't even remember who they were?"

Gold glanced around the street. It was too busy this time of day to have an especially frank discussion out on the sidewalk about the situation in Storybrooke. He also didn't want to reveal too much to a woman he knew almost nothing about.

"If you think your sister is an amnesiac, you should try the hospital," he suggested.

She grinned and took another drag from her cigarette, the ash crawling down the paper toward her fingertips. "I like you, Mr. Gold. Given what I know about you, I don't imagine you hear that a lot."

Gold raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak, but she continued, lowering her voice.

"But try not to treat me like an idiot." She straightened up and flashed him a smile. "Have a good day."

She crushed the ember between her fingers and pocketed the extinguished butt as she moved past him.

"Why did you decide to stay?" he called after her.

She stopped in the middle of the street. "Do something nice for me," she called back, laughing, "and maybe I'll tell you!"

He caught himself watching the swing of her hips as she turned and walked away. She was testing him, he suspected. No doubt August had told her who he really was, and, despite the teasing in her voice, this was her way of challenging him. He could never resist a deal, even in this land, even with terms as vague as those she offered.

"Something nice" was easy enough.

When he got to the shop, he dialed the bed-and-breakfast where she was almost certainly holding up until she found a place to live.

"Mrs. Lucas, this is Mr. Gold. I-"

"Rent's not due for another two weeks," the widow said irritably.

Gold bristled. "That's not why I'm calling. I believe you have a Miss Andersen staying with you. If you could comp-"

"If you're talking about the new girl - brunette, skirt, smokes like a chimney? - she's sharing a room with Mr. Booth."

Gold felt a pang of something he couldn't quite place. It felt like anger, but more acute. He hadn't felt anything close to it in a long time.

"Ah," he replied, ignoring the odd emotion. "Never mind, then." He was not about to do any unsolicited favors for August W. Booth.

After he hung up the phone, Gold stood in his office for a while, trying to sort through his thoughts. Comping her room for the night was the only easy nice thing he could do for her. Anything else he did would require active thought and attention, which he was reluctant to offer.

He shook his head and sighed, crossing through the front of the shop to flip over his open sign. Just another day in Storybrooke. Oh joy.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: It's the show's world. I just play in it (with my own toys).

4

Not knowing who she was was driving him crazy. He had other things to do to keep him busy, of course, but his mind inevitably wandered back to the way she had put out her cigarette, with her bare fingertips and no sign of pain.

She had been in town nearly a week and hadn't been back to his shop. His eyes and ears had nothing interesting to report. She went to Granny's in the morning and ordered coffee and had lunch with August and Marco before she spent several hours writing in a notebook or reading. She had read the entire town charter in one afternoon. Occasionally she would take a walk in the woods or down by the lake around sunset and then went back to Granny's for drinks with August before they headed back to the bed-and-breakfast.

What was interesting was what she didn't do. As far as anyone could tell, she hadn't been to the sheriff's office. She hadn't been to the records department. Nothing to indicate that she was actively looking for this alleged sister.

She showed up one evening at a city council meeting alone with a notebook. Gold sat in his usual seat in the back row and watched as she took a spot a few seats in front of him on the other side of the aisle.

When Regina opened the floor to anyone with new business, she raised her hand and stood.

"How long has the library been closed?"

The mayor's placid smile wavered. "A few years now," she replied, and Gold could hear the suspicion in her voice.

"What's keeping you from re-opening it?"

"We don't have a librarian," Regina answered dismissively. "Now, if no one else-"

"Is that all? I have an MLS. I'd be happy-"

Regina's nostril's flared. "Look, Miss - what was your name again?"

"Andersen. Finn Andersen."

"Miss Andersen... The town charter clearly states that any public office, which would include head librarian, must be held by a resident of Storybrooke. And you, Miss Andersen, are not."

Gold seized his opportunity and stood, leaning with both hands on his cane. "Actually, Madam Mayor, Miss Andersen just recently purchased some of my property. We're still hammering out the details, but she'll be a resident soon enough."

Finn twisted her head and gave Gold a bemused half-smile, but Regina glared daggers at him.

"The interior is also a wreck. There are thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, of dollars of renovations necessary to re-open it, and we don't have the budget for it."

Gold smirked. "Perhaps I can offer some financial assistance, Madam Mayor. It might do Storybrooke some good to have the library open again. At the least, it would give the young ones, like your _son_, somewhere safe to go after school. Certainly it's more attractive than some of the alternatives."

He had to give Regina credit. She was fuming, but she maintained her composure so well that no one who didn't know her would have been able to tell.

"That's a very generous offer, Mr. Gold, but I wouldn't want to waste your money. Storybrooke's citizens have never suggested re-opening the library before. That tells me that they find it unnecessary and that, if we were to re-open it, no one would use it."

"What if we circulated a petition?" Finn asked. "If we got signatures from enough people wanting the library open again, would you at least consider it?"

Regina smiled tightly, knowing she'd been beaten. "If the other issues were resolved and you got enough signatures, then yes, Miss Andersen, I would _consider_ it."

Finn looked back at Gold again and winked before sitting down and opening her notebook.

"Now," the mayor said, frustration evident in her voice, "if no one else has any new business..."

The rest of the meeting was slow and tedious, as usual. When everyone was adjourned, Finn met Gold on the sidewalk, cigarette hanging from her lips.

"Nice enough for you, Miss Andersen?" he asked smugly.

She grinned and struck a match, watching the flame dance on the head before bringing it to the paper. "The way I see it, Mr, Gold," she said, smoke billowing from her nostrils, "it's not nice to get my hopes up. Offering help is not the same as giving it. Help me get the library actually open, and then we'll talk. I would like to see this _property_ you mentioned, though."

"You don't think it's nice that I found you a house?"

She chuckled. "I came to _you_ for a house. I give you money, you give me a place to live. That's not nice. That's just business."

Gold smiled. She was good.

"Very well, Miss Andersen. What does your schedule look like so I can show you the place I have in mind?"

"I'm wide open, Mr. Gold. Whatever time works for you."

"Tomorrow around lunch then. Surely Mr. Booth won't miss you for an afternoon."

She nodded. "See you tomorrow then. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a petition to draft."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: It's the show's world. I just play in it (with my own toys).

5

"What are you playing at, Gold?"

The door to the shop slammed shut as Gold emerged from his office.

"Good evening, _Your Majesty_. What can I do for you?"

"Who is that woman?" Regina demanded.

"I'm currently trying to sort that out," he replied evenly.

"Oh? And just how is pushing me to open the library supposed to do that? Do you know what's _in _there?"

Gold smirked. "Indeed I do. I also know that most strangers don't respond well to fear tactics. You tried bullying Miss Swan, and look where it got you. She moved here, became sheriff, and now she's trying to take your son away."

Regina huffed.

"What's that old adage about flies and honey?" Gold continued mockingly. "Sometimes it's best just to give people what they want."

"And she wants a library. Why?"

"Presumably she likes to read," he answered dryly.

Regina irritably smoothed her hair. "So, what now? I can't very well open it."

"I'm afraid you won't have a choice. She's already drawing up the petition. When enough people decide they want the library open, particularly because none of them have ever been inside it, you will be standing on the wrong side of public opinion. A very precarious position for a public official to be in."

She sighed. "So that's it, then?"

"That's it. You'll have to move your, ah, _friend_ somewhere else, or come up with a very convincing excuse to keep people out of the basement. Good luck with that. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to lock up and be on my way home. _Please_."

Gold savored the pang of triumph as the mayor gave a curt nod and headed for the door. She paused with her hand on the knob.

"How do you even know about what's in the library?"

Gold smiled. "I could tell you," he said slowly, "but that wouldn't be any fun, now, would it?"

Regina scowled but pursued the question no further as she threw the door open and disappeared into the night.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: It's the show's world. I just play in it (with my own toys).

6

When the bell rang late the next morning, Gold was surprised to emerge from his office and find the odd Miss Andersen crouching on the floor of his shop, peering at a collection of silver candlesticks in a glass case.

"You're a bit early, Miss Andersen," Gold said.

She smiled and stood up. "I can't just come in to browse?" she asked innocently. "I love this place. Reminds me of home." She smiled at a pair of puppets propped up on the counter and took one of the small hands between her fingers, gently caressing the wood.

"And where is home?"

"I've been living near D.C. for the last few years."

"And my shop reminds you of it?"

She smirked. "I didn't say that. You were right, though, I did come in for a reason."

"I don't believe I said that."

"It was implied," she retorted. "Two things. The first" – she dug through her purse and produced a sheet of paper – "is this. I was hoping you'd take a look at my petition draft and let me know if there's anything I should change."

"That was quick," Gold said, taking the paper from her. "You really want this library open."

"I'm about to buy a house. I can't afford to keep buying books." She laughed. "Plus, I'm gonna need a job here soon, and I'm not equipped to do much else."

"You realize, don't you," Gold asked, taking out a pen and making notations on the petition as he spoke, "that the mayor will not be inclined to give you the job since you called her out in public?"

Finn inhaled sharply. "Yeah, that wasn't my best plan. But I'm still her only option, and, as long as I become a resident, she said-"

"That she would _consider_ it," he finished sharply, casting a reproachful glance at her before going back to the paper. "Because that's all you required of her. Regina has 'considered' plenty of things she had no intention of doing. You gave her an out."

She sighed heavily. "Well," she asked, chewing her lip as she stared at the floor, "what do I do about it?"

Gold passed her back the edited draft. "You worry about the petition. I'll handle Regina. And the second thing?"

The young woman looked suddenly uncomfortable, shifting her purse to her other shoulder. "I wondered... if you would like to have lunch with me."

Gold blinked at her, thrown by the invitation.

"You don't have to," she said quickly. "I just thought, August and Marco have a busy afternoon, and I'm eating up your lunch hour with this house thing..."

Gold felt uneasy. What she proposed was innocuous enough - normal people had lunch with other people on a regular basis - but he wasn't sure what to say. He was never invited to socialize. All of his interactions were restricted to business, and they were almost always meticulously planned so that he was always in control.

"Never mind," she murmured, tucking the petition back into her purse. "Forget I said anything."

"No," Gold said slowly. "Lunch would be fine. Just... let me finish up with a couple of things here, and I'll meet you at Granny's in, say, half an hour."

Her face brightened. "You're sure you don't mind?"

Gold minded a lot, in truth, but he wasn't about to let her know. "I can afford to close the shop for an extra hour," he said honestly, though studiously avoiding her question. "Go on. I'll see you in thirty minutes."

She smiled and headed for the door. When she was gone, Gold sighed and leaned against the counter.

He liked her. She wasn't afraid of him. He liked that. She wanted things from him - to buy a house, to open the library - things he could understand, even if he didn't know her reasons yet. But inviting him to spend time with her without a clear objective, he did not understand that. He did not like things he didn't understand.

What did she want from him?


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: It's the show's world. I just play in it (with my own toys).

7

"Rent's still not due for another week."

The older woman at the cash register eyed Gold warily as he stepped through the door to the diner.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Lucas," Finn said, waving to him from a booth in the corner. "He's with me."

"All the more reason," she muttered, wiping off the counter with a dishcloth.

"She's not very fond of me," Gold said dryly as he took his seat across from the younger woman.

"I like her," Finn replied, grinning. "She reminds me of my grandmother. She was a feisty old woman if ever there was one."

"Maternal or paternal?" Gold asked, considering no detail too small to help puzzle out who she was and why she had so suddenly decided to put down roots in Storybrooke.

"Maternal," she said off-handedly as Ruby came to the table. She shook the ice in her empty glass. "Another refill, Ruby, thank you."

"And for you, Mr. Gold?" Ruby asked tentatively.

Gold felt mildly self-conscious, though he hid it well. He did not remember the last time he had eaten at Granny's. He was no more welcome here than he was anywhere else in Storybrooke. He came to collect rent, and then he left. It was just the way of things.

"Just a glass of water for me," he said finally.

Ruby smiled and left for the kitchen.

"So, how is the search for your sister going?" Gold asked.

Finn shook her head. "Not well. I don't even know where to begin. I search everyone's face for signs of my father, but maybe she looks like her mother. I look like mine."

Gold tried to age her face in his mind, conjuring crow's feet at the corners of her eyes and laugh lines around her mouth, but he couldn't place a memory of an older version of her. Perhaps he had never met her mother. It seemed doubtful, given how many people he had met and deals he had struck over the centuries, but anything was possible, he supposed.

"Who was your mother?" he asked.

"A cold woman," she said bluntly. "Let's leave it at that. Thanks, Ruby."

Gold offered Ruby a polite smile as she set down their drinks and took out an order pad.

"Do you know what you want to eat?" she asked, pen at the ready.

"My usual," Finn answered blithely.

"I'll have whatever the special is," Gold said, not caring enough to look at the menu.

When Ruby had left, taking Finn's empty glass with her, Gold went back to their conversation. "And your father?" he pressed, sipping his water as he waited for a response.

"Bitter," she replied darkly. "Blind and bitter. I'm told he was kind once. But then," she added with a wistful half-smile, "weren't we all at some point?"

Gold resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably in his seat. "Indeed," he said finally. "What do you know about your sister?"

Finn shrugged. "Nothing. Almost nothing. She'd be... older than me, I guess. I don't even know her name. Our father was... forced to leave her mother before she was born. I think her mother died, but I can't say for sure."

"And then he married your mother."

Finn barked out a laugh and covered her mouth as if the sound surprised her. "They weren't married," she said finally. "I don't think they were even in love. But whatever Mother wanted, Mother got."

Her mother sounded like a few of the women Gold had known over the years. He had also known a few blind men, so no help there.

"What happened to your mother?" he asked.

"I don't know. I don't care to know. I haven't seen her here, and I hope I don't. We... never really understood each other."

Gold could understand that well enough. He was no stranger to tensions between parents and their children.

"Most people eventually find themselves wanting to reconcile with loved ones," he offered.

"I don't," she insisted, and there was an undercurrent of finality in her voice that said the subject was to be dropped.

An awkward silence settled between them as Ruby brought their food out, a plate of meatloaf and a loaded baked potato for Gold and a large bowl of chicken alfredo for Finn, which Ruby handled carefully with a potholder. The bowl was obviously heavy, her wrist shaking as she lowered it to the table with one hand.

Finn reached for the bowl to help.

"Careful, it's hot," Ruby warned.

"It's fine," Finn said dismissively, gripping the bowl with both hands and placing it firmly on the table.

Ruby frowned at her but thought better of saying something and walked away.

"Tell me about the house," Finn said to Gold, oddly cheerful, as if she hadn't looked like she'd wanted to strangle him a minute before.

"It needs some work," Gold replied, filing the strange moment in the back of his mind for later analysis. "It's been empty for some time now. A couple of children were living there unsupervised for a little while, but they've since moved in with a relative, so it's back on the market."

"Does it have a fireplace?" she asked, shoving a forkful of pasta into her mouth.

Gold kept himself from frowning at the odd question. "Two, in fact. One in the living room and a smaller one in the master bedroom."

Finn's eyes lit up. "I adore a fireplace. It's one of the few things I miss, living in apartments. Especially in the winter."

"And you're certain you want to buy," he asked, "not rent? I can offer you a fair rate. Mortgages can be nasty."

"So can landlords," she retorted, winking. "But I'm fine, financially speaking. I've been saving money for ages."

"Impressive skill for someone so young," he commented.

She smiled coyly. "I'm older than I look."

"So am I," he replied, knowing that she wouldn't give him a straight answer if he were to ask her real age. "And will it just be you moving in, or will Mr. Booth be joining you?"

She inhaled shakily, as if she was trying not to cry. "I'm not sure August will be... around... long enough. He gets worse every day." She sighed sadly and drank deeply from her glass. "Still, a roommate would be nice."

"Roommate? You and he are not...?" Gold let the end of the thought hang in the air.

She shook her head and chuckled. "Absolutely not. We tried. Once. Briefly. We're just not compatible that way."

"How did you meet?"

"He tried to pick me up at a bus stop. He saw me writing in my journal and assumed I was a writer, too."

Gold had assumed the same. "And you're not?"

"No. I write to help myself remember."

"Something wrong with your memory?" Gold asked, only half-teasing.

She laughed. "You have no idea. When I told him that, he said that writers write to remember things that never happened. Or things we like to pretend never happened. I argued, missed my bus, and he bought me a cup of coffee to apologize. The rest is history."

"How long before you learned of his... condition?"

"His _condition_ is recent," she replied sharply. "But I could always tell about him. He could always tell about me. Most of us can. There's something about... being there... that never completely goes away. The question is never 'are you?' It's always 'whose side are you on?' August is always on my side. And I'm always on his."

Gold recalled August's words about the woman, that she knew everything he had done, that he had abandoned the responsibility he was burdened with, and did not blame him for it.

Gold wondered what it would be like to have someone to trust in that way. He thought of Belle, how she had loved him in spite of what he was, and he wondered what would have happened if she had known all he had done, how many lives he had destroyed in his quest to find his son. Could she still have loved him? Would his reasons have mattered?

They were questions he would never have the answers to.

"You look pensive," Finn murmured, breaking his reverie.

"It's nothing," he muttered as Ruby came to collect their plates and slipped the bill onto the table.

Gold reached for it, but Finn was quicker, grinning as she glanced at the total.

"Oh no, you don't," she teased, digging into her purse for her wallet. "You don't get to pay for lunch and claim that as the nice thing you do for me. I'm counting on you for this library business."

Gold inclined his head graciously as she stood up from the table and went to the cash register.

He spied the corner of her notebook, a smooth brown leather journal, sticking out of her purse and found himself tempted to open it. He wondered what she was willing herself to remember. Her life in that other land? Or perhaps she was simply absent-minded and wrote herself notes to remember to call the plumber or pay the bills. She didn't strike him as the type to need such reminders, so he concluded that it must contain something more substantial than that, something that could tell him who she was.

"So," she said, grabbing her purse from the booth before he could be tempted any further, "where is this place? Can we walk it?"

"No," Gold answered, taking a final drink of water before standing and straightening his jacket. "It's some distance."

"Well, then," she said, producing a set of keys and swinging the metal look on the end her finger so they jingled softly. "I'm driving."


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: It's the show's world. I just play in it (with my own toys).

8

When Gold returned to his office in the middle of the afternoon, he fetched a small electronic box from one of his drawers and flipped the switch, adjusting the volume knob until he heard voices through the static. They were somewhat muffled but still clear enough that he didn't need to strain to understand them.

Planting the bug was easier than he had anticipated. She had set her purse down at one point to use one of the bathrooms, and he had slipped the small microphone into the bottom of it, confident that it would be a while until she found it.

He disliked resorting to Regina's tactics. He preferred more subtle, less traceable methods like "accidentally" overhearing conversations and using people's words against them. But Finn was acting as intentionally vague as Gold was, and, though he was certain he could hold up his end of their bargain with the library, he was reluctant to give her what she wanted without knowing her motivations.

He left the receiver on as he worked in his office - retouching the paint on a porcelain doll, re-staining an old jewelry box, polishing a set of lock picks. He kept an eye on the clock, not much caring who she talked to or what they talked about.

He was waiting for August. With August she would be honest. Perhaps not earlier in the evening, when they would be in public, but when they were back in the inn. She would say something - or _he_ would say something - and then Gold would know. Then he would know how to proceed.

He tinkered in his office for hours, tuning in and out as the voices arose and then fell silent.

She had gone back to Granny's after the house. He heard her order drinks from Ruby, compliment Mary Margaret on a new sweater, and ask after Ashley's new baby.

He took the receiver home when it was time to close the shop just before sundown. He ate a modest supper before retiring to the basement to spin.

He couldn't spin straw into gold in this world, but it had always been less about the gold and more about the slow, hypnotizing turn of the wheel and its ability to calm his interminably racing mind.

When he finally heard August's voice crackle through the speaker, he set up a second stool beside the wheel and placed the small device on it so it would be easier to listen.

"I heard you had lunch with Gold," August said.

"I like him," Finn replied matter-of-factly, and Gold could almost picture her shrugging.

"Why?" His tone was accusatory.

"I've gotten the same question about you, August," she teased. When she spoke again, her voice held a certain sadness. "I guess I have a soft spot for broken people. I was one once, if you'll recall."

"I remember," August replied softly. "How was the house?"

"Gorgeous. I'm buying it. There's a fireplace. _In the bedroom_."

August chuckled. "That'll do it."

"You were right about which one it was - same place you stitched Henry's book together. How is he doing, by the way? Henry?"

Ice clinked in a glass through the static. "Conflicted. He'll be okay though. He's a tough kid."

"I can't help but feel bad for Regina."

"She's evil. Henry's better off with Emma."

"Maybe. But... I can't explain it to you. You've never been a parent."

"Neither have you. Not that you remember."

"Don't." The one word was soft and threatening. "Don't ever."

Silence settled between them and the speaker was quiet for a long time as Gold worked, periodically untangling yarn as the spun wool fell in long loops into the basket.

So, she had been a mother. August's words implied that she only knew that much. She had done something, or someone had done something to her, to make her forget. It couldn't have been the Dark Curse - it only affected those living in the Enchanted Forest, and August said she had left before then.

And she thought of Gold as broken. He didn't deny it, but it bothered him to know she viewed him that way.

"I'm sorry," August offered finally. "I shouldn't have said that."

"No," she replied coldly. "You shouldn't have."

"How's the petition coming?" he asked, obviously glad to change the subject.

"Gold gave me suggestions for revision. I'll edit it tonight back at the inn."

"You sure those suggestions are to your advantage?"

Gold scoffed at the receiver.

"No reason they shouldn't be," Finn retorted. "If there was something in there he didn't want coming out, he wouldn't have offered his help in the first place."

"Don't fool yourself into thinking he's your friend. He only wants to know who you are. Why won't you just tell him?"

"I already told you - I like him. If he knew, I wouldn't intrigue him anymore."

"You could just ask him out like a normal person."

"Hence lunch," she shot back. "Besides, I don't want to be taken advantage of again. I'm still figuring out what all I can do here. I can't tell anyone until I know how to protect myself."

"You still haven't tried-?"

"No."

They didn't speak again until a young voice broke the silence.

"Hey, August."

"Hi, Henry. What are you doing here so late?"

"I had a late session with Archie. My mom said she's running behind at the office and told me I could have a hot chocolate while I waited. She's trying to be nice."

"Henry, you remember my friend, Finn." He lowered his voice to a stage whisper. "I hope you don't mind, but I let her in to Operation Cobra."

"Oh. So you believe it, too?" Henry asked.

"Absolutely," Finn answered, her voice low. "I'm from there."

"Which one are you?"

"Well... have you ever heard of the Snow Queen?"

Gold froze.

He knew who she was.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: It's the show's world. I just play in it (with my own toys).

9

_"I want my daughter back."_

_The Snow Queen was an eerily pale woman with high cheekbones and a striking, angular face as if she had been sculpted from ice. Ash blonde hair fell in waves over the white fur around her shoulders as she stood to approach the odd creature before her._

_Her palace was frozen, a monolith carved out of a glacier, but Rumplestiltskin was no longer subject to the weak sensations of mortals, and it didn't bother him in the least._

_"Maybe your daughter doesn't want _you_ back," he chirped, knowing full well that the girl didn't. "Did you ever think of that?"_

_"That's why I called you," the woman snarled. "If it was only a matter of fetching her, I could do that easily enough. But my mother is poisoning her against me. She would run away again. I need her to want to come back."_

_"Sorry, dearie!" he squealed gleefully. "You can't force somebody to love you. It's. Not. Possible."_

_"I just need time," she growled. "If I can keep her here long enough, I can _make_ her love me. I just need her to stay."_

_"Now that... that can be done." He held out his hand, and a silver mirror materialized in his palm in a cloud of purple smoke. "Break this mirror, and she will come back."_

_The Snow Queen made to touch the glittering object, but Rumplestiltskin pulled it away._

_"Ah, ah," he taunted, wagging a finger at her._

_Her ice-gray eyes narrowed, hungry and dangerous, never wavering from the mirror in his hand._

_"Name your price."_


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: It's the show's world. I just play in it (with my own toys).

10

Gold wanted to be anywhere but his shop when Finn turned up the next afternoon, waving a sheet of paper.

"I expect yours to be the first name on this petition," she said cheerfully, sliding it across the counter to him. "A few people already asked to sign, but I told them that you would get to do the honors."

He eyed her warily. Did she know? Was she testing him? Why was she here?

She frowned under the intensity of his gaze. "What's wrong?"

And just like that, he fixed his mouth in a polite smile and looked down at the paper.

August was no threat to him, and he knew how to handle Regina. It was easy to pull the strings of people when he knew their motivations, when he knew what they remembered of their lives in the other land - and especially when they didn't.

But he could not read this woman. He knew who she was, and she was still a mystery to him.

And because she was still a mystery to him, he could not afford to give himself away.

He produced a pen from his jacket pocket and scrawled his name on the first line, passing the sheet back to her.

"May I borrow that?" she asked, gesturing to his pen.

He nodded curtly and handed it to her. She signed _K. Andersen_ beneath his signature and offered the pen back. As Gold reached for it, she pulled it back, her fingers grazing his in the process. A thin bolt of electricity ran up his arm.

"What's wrong?" she asked again, her voice more insistent, holding the pen out of reach.

"Nothing," he replied dismissively, turning his palm up. "My pen, please."

She shook her head. "No, something's happened. What is it?"

"I don't believe that it's any of your business, Miss Andersen."

"Maybe not," she said, setting the pen on the counter, "but if something's wrong, I want to help."

"Why?"

She frowned. "Because I want to help."

"That does not-"

He waved his hand irritably, but she caught it between both of hers, and it startled him into silence. The gesture reminded him so much of Belle that he didn't know what to do, and he could only stare down at her hands clasped around his.

"If something is bad enough that you can't keep it off your face, I don't want you to have to handle it alone. You don't have many friends in this town. Any, really. I've been there. _Let me help._"

She didn't know. How could she hold his hand so tightly and sound so sincere, almost pleading, if she knew?

Gold withdrew his hand from her grasp and gripped his cane to stop his fingers from trembling. He felt exposed, and he could not abide such vulnerability.

"A kind offer but no," he said finally. "Will that be all, Miss Andersen?"

"Mr. Gold-"

"Will that be all?" he asked again, voice harsh.

She sighed irritably. "Don't think this is over," she warned, heading for the door.

"Good luck with your petition," he said off-handedly, pulling back the curtain to his office as the door to the shop slammed shut in response.

Guilt was a funny thing, he thought as he eyed the receiver on his desk. When she had begun explaining to Henry how her mother had kidnapped her, Gold had turned the device off, unwilling to listen to the details he already knew.

If it had been anyone else, he may not have cared. He had done plenty of things for which he should be sorry and wasn't. This should have been another one of those things, justified in his search for Baelfire, but she was not like the rest in this town.

She did not cower and move away from him quickly, and she didn't try to avoid his temper through flattery. She smiled warmly at him when she was in a good mood and snapped at him when she was angry. She had invited him out to lunch. She had told August that she liked him, that the only reason she hadn't been forthcoming about her identity was to keep him interested.

What he had done to her was only a small thing on the whole, but the fact that she seemed genuinely to enjoy spending time with him - and perhaps even to care for him, given her reaction to thinking he was in trouble - made him regret it more than some of the worst sins he had committed.

He couldn't let her find out.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: It's the show's world. I just play in it (with my own toys).

11

When Gold returned to his house that evening, he was surprised to find Finn sitting on his front porch, fists knotted in her coral skirt, knees drawn up to her chin with a shopworn suitcase propped up beside her.

When she had said their last conversation wasn't over, apparently she wasn't joking.

"Going somewhere, Miss Andersen?"

As she tilted her head back to look at him, Gold could see that her eyes were ringed with red, the remnants of tears glittering on the tips of her eyelashes.

He opened his mouth to express concern, but she spoke first.

"You have to bring magic back."

Her voice was hard and offered no room for argument.

Gold glanced around the street to see if anyone had heard before unlocking the door and quickly ushering her in.

"August is almost gone," she said before he could speak. "He collapsed on a job with Marco today. It hurts him to breathe, and he can barely move. You have to break the curse. It's the only way to save him."

"I can't break the curse, my dear," he said gently. "It doesn't work like that. I'm sorry."

She stamped her foot angrily. "But it's _your_ curse."

"I created it, yes. But I did not cast it, and I cannot break it."

She sat on the bottom step of the staircase, her lower lip quivering as tears rolled down her cheeks. "I can't lose him. Can't you, I don't know, orchestrate things so the curse will be broken?" She gripped the handle of the suitcase tightly. "I'll tell you who I am, anything. Anything."

Under other circumstances, Gold might have taken the deal without question, knowing as he did now exactly what she was capable of. But her abilities were useless to him now that he had arrived in the world he needed to be in.

He wanted the curse broken as much as she did, and with tensions mounting between Regina and Emma, he was certain that it was only a matter of time. Still, he was fond of this girl, small and trembling in his foyer, and he could, he supposed, give the warring mothers a push. And he recognized his opportunity to find out exactly what Finn knew.

"If you tell me who you are, then I will do everything in my power to see that the curse is broken."

She eyed him suspiciously. "You swear?"

He nodded solemnly. "I swear."

She stared at the suitcase for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she sighed. "Then bring me a candle and pour me a drink. I'm gonna need one."

Gold gestured to the sofa in the parlor before fetching a glass of brandy and beeswax pillar candle in a silver dish, setting both on the coffee table before her.

She downed the glass in one swallow and produced a book of matches from the jacket she wouldn't take off and struck one, setting the candlewick aflame.

Gold took a seat beside her on the sofa, maintaining a modest space between them, and watched her watch the flame. Her eyes darted back and forth as if glued to a movie screen, and occasionally her brow furrowed, whether out of concentration or concern he couldn't tell.

"Give me your hand," she said finally, turning her palm up without looking at him.

"Excuse me?"

She repeated the instruction and kept her hand out until Gold reluctantly acquiesced. Her skin was hot to the touch.

She inhaled deeply and finally spoke.

"They call you a coward, Rumplestiltskin," she said softly. "You created the Dark Curse to find the son you abandoned."

Gold bristled. "I know who I am, dearie," he replied, his voice a quiet warning. "I want to know who _you_ are."

A smile quirked the corner of her mouth. "I _am_ telling you who I am." She frowned deeply as she stared into the fire. "You've loved two women in your life. One... you killed. The other... you wish you'd never met."

Gold jerked his hand away. "That's not true," he snarled.

She offered him a skeptical smile. "Fire doesn't lie."

"What are you?" he demanded.

He hadn't known she was a seer. His own abilities to read timelines hadn't told him that, and he had never met anyone who could see such things in fire.

"I haven't heard that question in ages," she murmured thoughtfully. Then, with a scowl, "Can't say I've missed it."

Gold waited for her to speak again, and finally she did.

"My name is Kolfinna. My mother was a witch of the northern wastelands. Up in the land of Permafrost, they called her the Snow Queen."

Gold nodded. "I met her once. Not really a queen."

"Not much of a mother," she added darkly. "In stories about her here, they make me a boy, shorten my name to Kay." She shook her head. "We never got along. How could we? She was the Snow Queen, and I'm a child of fire. I ran away to live with my grandmother when I was young. When I was ten, my mother kidnapped me."

"She wanted you back," Gold said, knowing exactly how that felt.

Finn scoffed. "She should have wanted me to be safe and happy. She failed. I would have been fine if she'd left me alone. But what she did to get me back, I spent decades trying to outrun. Gerda may have freed me from my mother, but that _thing_ haunted me for lifetimes."

Gold frowned. "What thing?"

She turned her face to his, brown eyes glittering darkly in the candle glow, before she said the words he had hoped not to hear.

"I know it was your mirror."


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: It's the show's world. I just play in it (with my own toys).

12

Gold stared at the woman beside him, expecting to find anger or fear in her eyes as she stared back at him, but her face was passive, her expression unreadable.

"That shard?" she continued. "The shard that got stuck in my eye and turned my heart cold, made me say horrible things to my grandmother, made me..." She stopped and took a shaky breath. "That was yours."

Gold spoke as evenly as he could. "How did you find out?"

"Because I held your hand," she said, touching his wrist almost tenderly. "In the shop today, when you wouldn't tell me what was wrong." She chuckled softly to herself. "Never keep lit candles around a fire-seer if you don't want your secrets getting out."

Gold frowned. "You're not angry." Why wasn't she angry?

She smiled sadly. "We all do... less than honorable things for the sake of our children."

Gold knew that well enough, but he chose to sidestep the obvious question and went straight for the one he had been dying to know the answer to since the first day he had met her.

"Why did you choose to stay in Storybrooke?"

"This," she said, reaching for the candle.

Gold watched dumbly as she took the flame in her fingers and lifted it from the wick. She dropped the small orange fire into her palm and used the thumb of her opposite hand to press it down until it was flat like a piece of wax or clay, smiling to herself as she rolled it into a ball.

Fire sculptors were rare, Gold remembered. It was one thing to create objects out of fire using magic. The fire _was_ the magic, and whoever controlled the magic controlled the fire. It was another thing entirely to shape a natural flame.

"When I got to this world, I couldn't do this anymore," she went on. "I couldn't see anything in the fire except the occasional glimpse, like a dream you can't quite remember. Until I came to Storybrooke. The day I came to your shop, when I saw that candle on the shelf... For once I could see my past clearly, like I used to. It had been so long, I just couldn't give it up. I had to live here."

"Your past," Gold repeated.

She nodded, absently fidgeting with the flame in her hands. "I can only see the past. Fire consumes. You can't consume what doesn't exist yet. And I can only see my own unless I'm touching someone else. Then I can see theirs, too."

Gold took a moment to decide how to ask his next question. "When you said you came to this world..."

She glanced at him reproachfully. "Don't pretend you don't at least know the last part. That's the price you extracted from my mother, isn't it? This."

She held the flame in her palm and blew. The small bit of fire floated like a feather to the middle of the living room, twisting like a wind had caught it, growing larger with every rotation until it was large enough to consume a grown human.

Gold rose and made to approach it, but Finn grabbed his arm.

"I wouldn't," she warned. "I don't know what that portal will do to you, what you might lose."

Gold looked at her. "What I might lose?"

She sighed and aimed a quick burst of breath at the portal like she was blowing out a candle, and the fire collapsed in on itself in a heap of ash, a puff of smoke rise from where it had hovered.

Then she hefted the suitcase onto the coffee table and ran her hands lovingly over the top, thumbs poised on the latches.

"You asked me once how old I am," she said, gesturing for him to sit back down. "Technically, I'm twenty-seven."

Gold kept his eyes on the suitcase, trying to imagine what could be inside it. "But not technically?"

She smiled. "I'm closer to two hundred."

In a swift move, she flipped the latches and drew back the cover.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: It's the show's world. I just play in it (with my own toys).

13

Notebooks of every kind spilled out of the suitcase. Some were leather-bound, some spiral-bound, some nothing more than a collection of scrap paper tied with every manner of string. Some were older than others, many of them in excellent condition, while several others were yellowing and falling apart.

Gold reached for one of the leather journals and opened it. In delicate script, the inside cover read "Journal #33 - Wonderland, Part II." Setting it aside, he chose another and read the inside cover. "Journal #57 - Narnia, Part I."

"Magic always comes with a price," Finn said. "The price for using fire portals is that you give up all memory of who you were after the first time you stepped through the first one. Fire burns. It destroys and cleanses and renews. It strips away everything you are. Every time I step through a portal, I'm fourteen again. I began keeping journals to remind myself of who I've been and what I've done."

"How did you discover you could conjure these portals?"

Finn reached for the glass on the table, rose, and refilled her drink. She downed the second glass with purpose and poured another.

"My father was some kind of aristocrat when he was younger. He was clever and jovial, never had a bad word to say about anyone. At least, that's what others have told me. By the time I met him, he had lost his title and wealth, his sight, and the love of his life." She sipped her brandy slowly and closed her eyes. "I shouldn't have stayed. But I had nowhere else to go."

"Your grandmother?" Gold prompted. "Surely she would have welcomed you back."

"Almost certainly," Finn answered. "But I couldn't have asked that of her. There was something... dark... inside me after what happened with that mirror. Whatever it was, it was growing. The fairy tale in this world says that Gerda's love melted the shard. The reality wasn't so simple."

"It never is," Gold muttered, thinking of Belle.

Finn softly murmured in agreement. "I couldn't ask her to forgive me when I already knew what I was going to become."

"Which was?"

"Every bit as cold as my mother."

Gold had to admire her selfless foresight. He had known, at least intellectually, what being the Dark One would mean. He had understood that it would be difficult for Bae, that his son would pay a price for his own deeds. He considered sometimes how much easier Bae's life might have been if he had left him in the care of some neighbor in the village, keeping watch from a distance and stepping in only when necessary. But he couldn't. He was selfish and cowardly, and he did not have the strength to let go, and it had doomed them both.

Finn's fingers ghosted across the back of his hand, and he pulled away abruptly. His memories of Baelfire were his and his alone. She could not have them.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Rumplestiltskin," she said quietly. "We're in the same boat, you and I."

"You were telling me about your father," he said sharply.

She sighed, letting his curtness go. "He never wanted me. He wanted my sister. His sweet, beautiful, youngest daughter. Not me." She scoffed sadly. "Never me."

"You said your sister was older."

"I'm technically twenty-seven, remember?" she replied, raising an eyebrow.

Gold nodded, understanding. "Life with him was difficult."

Finn stared at the liquid in her glass. "I was selling matchsticks the night before the New Year festival. It was freezing, but I couldn't go home. I had only sold half of them, and I would have been punished." She put the glass to her lips and swallowed hard. "He may have been blind, but he was a crack shot with a fire iron."

"He beat you." It wasn't a question.

"Badly," she answered softly, nodding. "Sometimes. It never made any sense to me. I don't know what he expected would happen. His wife would still be dead. His daughter would still be lost. We only had each other, and he did everything to drive me away. But I couldn't leave. Until that night."

She took Gold's silence as a sign that she should continue.

"Instead of going home, I huddled in a doorway that would keep me out of the snow. I'd already learned that I could see the past in fire, and I missed my grandmother. The smell of her, the sound of her voice. Everything. So I lit the matches to remember. And every time one fizzled out, I lit another and another and I wanted so badly to run away, to just be _gone_, and I poured all of that desire into that last match, and the fire grew in my hands until it swallowed me. And when I looked up, I was in a new world."

"Which world?" Gold asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I still don't know how many portals I jumped through before I learned what happens."

"How did you find out if you don't remember anything?"

She smiled slightly. "Did you always know you were Rumplestiltskin after the curse was cast?"

Gold frowned. "Not until Emma returned," he admitted. "When time began moving forward again, then I knew."

"And before, when you believed you were just Mr. Gold, friendly neighborhood loan shark, didn't you feel like there was something missing?"

_Always_, he wanted to say, but he couldn't bring himself to speak the word. He nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Nightmares?" she asked. "Déjà vu? A flash here and there like you're remembering something that couldn't possibly have happened? So you shrug it off as if you were daydreaming, but that _feeling_ won't go away."

A shiver ran across his shoulders. He didn't like the way she could read him, especially the parts of him she had no right to know.

Belle had seen the man she wanted him to be, the man she'd made him wish he could be, a wish he had long since stopped believe was possible. But Finn saw who he was. There was no anger in her eyes. She didn't want to change him. She didn't judge him. She didn't run. She didn't even flinch.

"You were saying?" he said smoothly, hoping to steer their conversation away from himself.

She eyed him reproachfully but apparently thought better of voicing what she had originally intended.

"When I realized that I had memories of another life and no idea where they came from, I looked to the fire. It's hard to read your past in the flames if you don't know what you're looking for. Everything is cloudy and disjointed, but I learned enough to figure out what was happening to me." She nodded at the suitcase. "That's when I started keeping the journals. I was in..." - she paused to search for the memory - "Camelot at the time."

She rifled through the collection of journals until she found what she was looking for. She pulled out a compilation of parchment leaves, the exposed threads along its spine brown and frayed.

"This," she said solemnly as she handed it to him, "is the beginning."


End file.
